Summary

"I am Russian. Cold does not bother me. I do not want to deal with you getting sick because you have inferior immune system." Illya let's Gaby borrow his coat, but it seems even the Red Peril isn't immune to a common cold. Fluff and witty comments (Napoleon) ensue. (Credit idea to: @illyabucky @cavillsbooty on Tumblr)

Summary

They need access to the mark who is going to grant them access to a place, and charm is the preferred offensive this time. llya Kuryakin is, objectively, an arresting sight, and the mark's keen interest is palpable.

(In which an argument is made that Napoleon Solo's aesthetic sensibilities are severely affected by his profession and temperament.)

Summary

Illya wasn't even meant to be on this mission, but Waverly sent him to the USA to work on a CIA mission for goodwill. It all goes south, Gaby and Napoleon disappear and Illya finds himself at the brunt of the CIA's suspicion.

Summary

Napoleon likes to think of sex as an easy way to get what he wants from his marks.Gaby does what she must for the mission and is learning to deal with the aftermath.Illya would much rather just break in, steal the data and skip all of this.

Summary

Illya snarls again, but he knows, he’s always known, that his life would end like this. He supposes the gun is a mercy.He just wishes he’d been braver.

It's been over a year since Rome, since they stopped the world ending (and Napoleon didn't realise how often he'd have to do that now), since Napoleon made a choice and threw a watch across the room instead of pulling a gun. Since then, it's been one mission after another, and Napoleon and Illya have gone from reluctant partners to friends to possibly something more.

Napoleon can’t even remember what they talked about. What he remembers is Illya sitting on his couch, a finger or two of vodka in his glass and an amused quirk to his lips. What he remembers is sitting opposite him in his armchair, suit jacket slung over the back and waistcoat unbuttoned. He rarely lets his persona drop, but around Illya he can’t seem to help it.What he remembers is making Illya laugh and thinking: Oh. How did I not see this coming?

Now it might all be too late, and he didn't think it would end like this: Illya lying in the street, ash and blood and Napoleon's name on his lips.

Summary

“What are you doing?” He asks with steady steps towards the bedroom. Illya does not tear his gaze from hers as her hands follow through his hair and then her thumbs drag along his jaw, tracing his bottom lip.

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Summary

He hadn’t be there this time, to rescued him. Peril… He started to laugh a nervous laughter, thinking of a bottle of red wine and an Italian love song, hand rubbing his face. No, he was screaming inside, it couldn’t end like this.